The gleaming green light of the Solshard was dimming to nothing, marking the time of what most would call the Black hour. An hour of darkness as the Solshard changed to the next color in its cycle, blue. Mariana perched atop one of the highest cathedrals in the city of Luster, peering into the lonely alleyway below, her long black over-cloak deflecting the rain off her and keeping her hidden from the solitary figure in the alleyway. Anxiously, she gripped the hilt of her sword, a sword of heavy iron, and had to resist the urge to increase her skin temperature against the cold rain. Doing that would sap her strength, and not to mention, it could boil the rain that landed on her, generating some very noticeable steam. Thus she shivered in silence.
Mariana was waiting for the man below to meet his client, and fortunately she didn't have to wait much longer. She spotted the top of an obsidian black umbrella out of the corner of her eye, slowly making its way down the alley to the dealer. Mariana could hear the faint clicking of their shoes hitting the cobblestone and she focused on that sound.
Click click click.
Mariana concentrated on making the sound louder. Increasing one's senses took little effort, especially compared to increasing strength or durability. She doubled her sense of hearing, then tripled, then quadrupled it, till the sound of rain on the tile rooftop was deafening. She winced in pain, but listened to the whispering figures 8 stories below.
"You're late, again." Came a nasally masculine voice, that had to be the dealer.
"I'm never late, you should expect me to arrive precisely when I mean to." The buyer's feminine voice was calm and so soft that Mariana considered increasing her hearing once more, but decided against it.
The dealer snorted at the buyer's response, "I half expect you are trying to get us caught," he muttered, then pulled a package out of his coat and passed it under the umbrella, trading it for a sack of jingling coins. The buyer then turned and, click click click, walked away. Mariana relaxed her ears, letting her hearing return to normal, then carefully rose, and crept after the black umbrella.
If her sources were right, this woman was a witch, a foul creature in human form, capable of commanding the spirits themselves. Mariana forced her nerves into submission, she'd never fought a witch before, only spirits that had gotten too rowdy and had started terrorizing citizens.
“Remember your training,” she whispered to herself, “This is a surveillance mission only.”
She pulled her hood forward to block any stray lights she didn't need to see, then focused on the obsidian black umbrella and doubled her vision, but then released it. She needed to be closer. Even with Soul Magnum, she could lose her target.
Mariana scanned the buildings nearby and chose one with a relatively flat roof about 50 feet away and about 40 feet straight down. She tensed her muscles, focusing first on durability to help her withstand the strain of building her strength. Soul Magnum was a useful tool, allowing a person to multiply certain aspects of themselves for short periods of time, but it's also unnatural, and without serious training, she could tear herself apart. The highest she'd ever been able to multiply her strength or really any of her attributes was by 5, which is nothing to scoff at considering nobody had ever gone above 10 without suffering a horrific death within minutes of use. She held her breath while her skin tightened over her tensing muscles. Double. Triple. Then she focused on strength. Mariana’s crimson uniform under her cloak stretched and strained as her muscles doubled in size, then tripled. She drew breath again as she felt her strength increase. The breath control didn't do anything to activate the ability, but it was good to focus on something. Times four. She heard a creak of protest, but wasn't sure if it was her clothes, or her bones. Times five. She hesitated, Is that enough? She thought, looking down at the 80 foot drop to street level. It better be. It needs to be.
Mariana exploded into motion, leaping from the cathedral roof with such tremendous force, she heard stone crack behind her. She hurtled towards the roof at breakneck speed and dropped her strength back to times three. For the landing she needed durability. Times four. Her bones were as strong as the cave stone. Times five. She crashed into the rain soaked roof, rolling to reduce the impact as best she could. Mariana gasped as she continued to slide towards the edge, she threw out a hand and decimated a passing chimney in an effort to stop. She was still going too fast. Mariana dug her fingers into the tiled roof, leaving eight tiny trails of destruction before… nothing. Mariana was looking at the ground, 40 feet down, as her momentum carried her crashing into the stone wall of the next building. Mariana grunted in pain and struggled to focus on her durability as she fell, bracing for impact.
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The stone street cracked as she landed.
Mariana's form shrunk and softened as she released Soul Magnum and after a while, began the attempt to lift herself to her feet. Nothing felt broken, but she wasn't sure which was more bruised, her body or her pride. Mariana began carefully increasing her healing speed and efficiency, double would be enough for this, and limped towards the exit of the alleyway she'd found herself in.
As she neared the edge of the alley, she heard voices, and cursed under her breath. She adjusted her hood and cloak and stooped to hide any discernible features. As the people came into focus, she found a quintet of drunks that made her wish Soul Magnum could reduce her sense of smell to nothing, but Soul Magnum only increases the traits you already have.
One foul older man leaped in front of her and popped his leg up on a box. He leaned leisurely towards her, an arm resting on his knee. The stench of alcohol and half a dozen other unpleasant things seeped out of his rotten yellow grin and into Mariana's wrinkling nostrils, now only inches away.
“Tha’s a fancy lookin entrance ya made. Fancy one like ya must’ve a fancy wallet too. Le’s make a deal.” His words dripped lazily from his tongue like molasses. “Ya pay for me crews next drink, and we forgive yer little trespass on our street.” Mariana studied her aggressor's leathery Sol-burnt face for a moment, noting the wicked gleam in the scrawny man’s eye. She noted the four cronies surrounding her, each with a matching, overconfident grin, but none of them had moved from their seats.
“Your street? I don't see your name on it.” Mariana remarked, and the drunk nonchalantly nodded to a sign on one of the nearby walls that read verbatim: “Dugalo’s Streit.” Mariana wasn't sure what about the sign was making her eyes water when looking at it, whether it was the horrid handwriting, the malicious misspelling, or the ridiculous blue paint. “Ah, so it does.”
“Sah, we’ve a deal?” presumably Dugalo offered, releasing more of the toxic cloud that anyone else might call a breath.
“Listen,” Mariana started, “I don't have time for this. I typically don't deal with ordinary thugs, but you have ten seconds to get out of my face and out of my way before I cut off your nose.” She said, then slowly, but intently parted her cloak so they could see her sword’s pommel and moved to draw it. Unfortunately her threat seemed to make the brigands grin even wider.
“Oh-ho?, oi like yer funny words, swordswoman, but words don't account for much when yer tongue's lyin in the mud.” Dugalo chuckled coldly and Mariana froze as she felt the icy steel of a gun barrel pressed into her chin. She hadn't even seen the man draw it or move his arms, no shift in his weight or sound the rustling in his clothing.
“Now what was that about cuttin off me nose?” The brigand chuckled, and Mariana realized she'd seriously underestimated the man. “oi’m a fergivin man, so oi’ll give ya another chance if ya buy our drinks for the rest of the night. Oi’ll take the sword and clothes too. Do we have a deal?” Mariana narrowed her eyes, anger and pride welling up inside of her. She focused on speed and felt her muscles tense like springs being stretched and held. Double, triple, quadriple, she didn't dare amplify more without the safety of increasing her durability and she didn't have time for that. In less than a second, Mariana threw herself out of the path of the pistol, landed, drew her sword and aimed for the nose just as she'd promised.
CLANG!
Mariana blinked in surprise, Dugalo had blocked her blade with his pistol braced against his forehead.
“Well well well, an Inquisitor. We don't take kindly to yer kind, but we'll kindly take yer shite.” Dugalo cackled and drew a blade before falling into the familiar aggressive form of the four major sword stances, Inferno. His stance was wide but practiced, posture loose but ready to fall into explosive motion. It was unusual to see a pistol used in this style, but the way he held himself and his weapons, it was clear he was no ordinary thug. Mariana retreated into the more defensive Mountain stance, footing strong, immovable, and her sword held in both hands, raised in a high guard.
“Who are you?” Mariana demanded, rage filling her voice, “You seem trained in Inferno, but you look like you've never seen a shower and a shave in your life. Are you a deserter?”
“Las I checked,” Dugalo scowled, “I'm th’one asken questions.” The other brigands cleared the way to enjoy the show, but notably three of them were blocking the exit, while the fourth stood further down the alleyway. It was clear nobody was leaving before this was settled.
The stage was set for a battle.